Page 27 of Claimed By Desire

A part of me is eager to see her walk down the aisle, and another part of me knows I’m going to die a little bit when they exchange their vows.

There’s a noise in the back. I get to my feet, reading for the gun I have tucked in my waistband. “Who’s there?”

“Sorry, sorry, it’s just me.” Dasha appears, grinning sheepishly. “Forgot my wallet.”

“Oh, I could’ve brought that to you.”

She smiles at me and shakes her head as she looks around the messy back. She’s in a sleek dress, tight against her hips and bust, and her hair’s up in a gorgeous little bun. I have to admit, she’s sexy as fuck, which is exactly why Oleg hired her to work here. Great tits, amazing lips, an incredible smile, and an ass that sells more Rolexes than any good sales patch possibly could.

“I was heading out around here with my friends anyway.” She hurries up front, makes some noise up there, before coming back with a little orange clutch. “Here we go. Just needed my ID for this stupid club.”

“Have fun,” I tell her, already turning back to my watches.

But Dasha doesn’t leave right away. “You know, you should come out with us,” she says and sits down on top of my workbench. Her dress tugs up her thighs, and she doesn’t try to pull it down as she crosses her legs and leans forward slightly.

“That’s okay. I’m busy here.”

“You’re always busy back here. You should take a break.”

“I’m no fun.”

“I don’t know.” She touches my arm and leans closer. “I feel like we get along pretty well, don’t we?”

I look at her fingers on my shoulder and glance up. Her mouth is slightly parted and she licks her lower lip.

I know what’s happening here. I can already see the night spread out in front of me: Dasha dancing in the club, her lithe, pretty body grinding up against my dick, Dasha laughing as we take a cab back to my place, Dasha moaning as I fuck her senseless.

That might be the distraction I desperately need.

One stupid night of pleasure with an attractive woman.

I don’t owe Natalya anything—and she’s getting married to someone else tomorrow.

“I can’t,” I say, looking away. “You go and have fun.”

“Are you sure?” She sounds slightly hurt and I do my best to ignore it. “Are you really going to make me beg?”

“Not tonight,” I say and it comes out harsher than I intended.

Dasha pulls her hand away and gets up off the worktable. She adjusts her dress. “Yeah, alright,” she says, and I can tell the rejection hurts. “See you tomorrow then.”

“See you,” I murmur as she leaves out the back.

Fuck.

I could’ve been softer about that. We still have to work together and shit. But going through with that, dancing with her, fucking her, that would’ve been even worse.

Because I would’ve been thinking about someone else the whole time.

“And I don’t evenlikeher,” I growl to myself and slam my fist down, making the watches jump.

What the fuck is wrong with me? I just passed up the chance to have a good time with an attractive woman that was basically throwing herself in my lap, all because ofLittle Nat. The annoying, spoiled brat, the Bratva princess.

Something is seriously broken inside of me.

I get backto my place around midnight and kill the engine. My condo building overlooks the Delaware river, and the lights of the city glitter off the water as I drag my ass across the parking lot. It’s an upscale, exclusive place, and the cars in the lot are all BMWs and Mercedes. Security cameras and a guard in a booth keeps watch.

I’m thinking about drinking six whiskies and passing out and nearly don’t notice the figure lurking around the front doors. They look nervous, pacing back and forth, and I’m instantly on guard. My hand moves toward the gun in my waistband, but then they turn in my direction and I go very well.

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